XVI1120
by reclariant
Summary: There was a voice in the back of his head warning him about what happened to people who pretended to be heroes.


XVI.1-120

Story Notes: As you might have deduced from the whacking great quote just there, as well as the title, this is Not Actually My Idea. This Greek bloke who I have quite a great deal of respect for did this scene first, c. 800 BC. Of course, he did it with quite different characters, and in a very different way. They made a movie about his story. This scene wasn't in it.  
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. The story doesn't actually either, but copyright's lapsed on that already.

_"Oh would to god- Father Zeus, Athena and Lord Apollo-  
not one of all these Trojans could flee his death, not one,  
no Argive either, but we could stride from the slaughter  
so we could bring Troy's hallowed crown of towers  
toppling down around us- you and I alone!"_  
-Homer, Iliad XVI.115-120

Major Sheppard's unfocused eyes stared glassily into the distance, inattentive even as Rodney strode loudly and purposefully into the infirmary. Rodney indulged the rising surge of panic that had tightened his throat as he approached the infirmary doors, but forced the growing queasiness into determination; and anger. Anger was good. John looked up and blinked at him lazily, bestowing him with a magnanimous smile; the starkly white bandage was incongruous against his shock of dark hair.

"Hey, Mckay. Who died?" he drawled casually.

Rodney flinched at the phrase, and bit down hard on the vitriolic retort poised on his tongue. The unease must have shown plainly on his face, because even in his drugged state Sheppard's grin faltered, melting into an almost comically serious expression of concern.

"What's the situation?"

McKay forced himself relax. "Nothing serious, just some routine minor disasters," he ground out, trying for casual and missing by a mile.

"We've just received word from M6I-120. Apparently the natives there are expressing their general lack of hospitality and are being increasingly ungracious hosts. Bates' team radioed for assistance."  
Rodney made a concerted effort to ignore the pang of annoyance when Sheppard's open face hardened at the mention of the sergeant, and plowed on.

"They need a jumper to pull them out, but all of out pilots are otherwise unavailable. Stackhouse took that arrow through the thigh on that last mission, and Carson's team are working nonstop. And you..."  
Rodney paused to gather his thoughts, his jaw clenching as he regarded the Major.

"You. Wouldn't be in here at all except for your stupid, stubborn pride."  
John made a move to protest, but Rodney steamrolled on.

"I certainly hope you're pleased with yourself," he nearly snarled, "because you've just moved beyond the category of 'Kirk' and into the one where you get yourself stupidly injured by thinking with your pants. Irresponsible doesn't even cover it."

He watched carefully as his words made it through the drug haze and sunk in, and saw the Major's eyes turn from dreamy distractedness to the unfathomable depths of an overcast ocean. Rodney went on, his hands sketching sharp patterns in the air.

"Don't even bother suggesting it, you know you can't go, at least not without Carson coming after you with a sedative. If you have the slightest shred of sense inside that damaged brain of yours, send me instead. Besides, your reputation for stupid heroics isn't exactly a secret anymore. If the sight of the Jumper alone isn't enough to get the natives to back off..." he trailed off, hoping John would fill in the blanks, but John just scowled.

"Look, if Bates can get some breathing room, the team can make a break from where they're pinned. You can't endanger them just because you dislike him," he continued irritably.

He thought for a moment that the Major's rock-hard stubborn streak might assert itself. Rodney really didn't want to be dissuaded from this rescue plan, which had a hundred disastrous potentials in his mind already. But he had to go, and this was the only way of getting what he wanted. Rodney refused to let Sheppard's jealousy cause any more trouble, not when he had to take such care to keep his own under control.

"Stupid heroics?"  
John looked a little hurt, belatedly recognising the insult. Then his gaze wandered along with his concentration, and he stared at a blank piece of wall over Rodney's shoulder.

"Bates knew I was working on her. I spend a lot of time with her, and I really thought we were working on an understanding, but the moment he finally concludes she isn't a security threat they-"  
Sheppard caught Rodney's rapidly icing expression and abandoned that train of argument.

"I just, maybe, didn't choose the right time to tell her about my misgivings about him," he concluded, gesturing awkwardly at his bandaged head.  
Rodney narrowed his eyes at Sheppard's prevarications, as he viciously imagined the whistling crack of stick against skull that had followed the Major's 'misgivings'. John must have noticed that his audience remained unconvinced, and hurriedly continued.

"And I'm not still mad about that."  
Even drugged Sheppard recognised when he should stop digging himself into a hole. But now he had apparently decided that humoring Rodney was his best chance at getting out of trouble. Considering that it worked in well with Rodney's plan, he was content to let Sheppard squirm as he acquiesced to Rodney's demands. The cold knot of anger in his gut had nothing to do with it.

"Well, Carson isn't letting me out, so yeah, take Jumper One...and some Marines too," he added as an afterthought. "If the natives give you any trouble, just drop some light fire on a treeline or something."

Rodney nodded quickly, and quietly marveled that convincing the Major had been so easy. He certainly hadn't expected leave to take what amounted to Sheppard's personal Jumper. He ignored the feeling of doom creeping up his spine and turned to leave. John grabbed at his sleeve as though struck by momentary prescience, the anxiety suddenly showing in his face.

"Listen! This is important- once you've picked up the team, come straight home. Don't go after them, even if you think you can retrieve the ZPM," he instructed him urgently.  
John patted absently on the arm in his grasp, and peered intently at him with the earnest expression of someone on hard painkillers. He smiled suddenly, and Rodney reluctantly tried to accept the impossibility he had just ordered.

"You should go, before they manage to kill each other off. Don't do anything too exciting without me," he added, looking momentarily wistful. "We wouldn't want you hogging all the glory around here."  
John gave him another dazed smile, and released his hold. Rodney's answering smile was sickly as he walked to the door. He quashed the irrational panic, valiantly ignoring the urgent voice in the back of his head warning him about what happened to people who pretended to be heroes.

"Careful, Major," he called over his shoulder at the last minute. "Don't jinx us."

John closed his eyes as he settled back into his pillows, blissfully ignorant of the foreboding that accompanied Rodney's words.

"Come home safe," he murmured.


End file.
